


If you ask Hawke

by Sybillspace



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Drinking Night, Drunken Confession, Hawke is such a dummy, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pre-Relationship, a little angsty, but they will be, character sutdy, getting lost in thought, love confessions kind of, struggling with feelings, they are not prepared yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybillspace/pseuds/Sybillspace
Summary: Hawke struggles.So does Fenris





	1. If you ask Hawke

**Author's Note:**

> Ok  
> I'm into deep with this fandom for a good couple of years now, but i am terrible at writting.  
> that's why i'm posting this til now.  
> what changed? i don't care anymore. if i am a shitty writting, i am never going to get better if i don't write, right?
> 
> this thing is full of mistakes, and i apologize for that  
> english is not my first languague and i don't have a beta, i'm sorry u.u

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke struggles

If you ask Hawke about it, he wasn’t able to give a real answer.

He wasn’t sure how it started or when.

Well, if you ask any of his companions they would say it was at first sight, when he blatantly flirted with the elf.

But no, his friends forgot that he even flirted with Anders, and was used to do the same for fun with Isabela. Damn, he even flirted with Merrill once, out of pure habit.

Maybe the first glimpse of “something” lit up at first sight that night, but it wasn’t there when it really started.

Hawke wasn’t sure though.

He didn’t even realize it until much, much later. Probably into the deep roads.

When he realized the elf barely slept at all and started to spend part of his shifts with him during the nights. He found himself several times thinking about how beautiful the light from the fire flames made Fenris’ skin look. He found himself thinking about how the absence of natural light changed the color of his eyes. Of how beautiful of a sound his voice was when he was laughing with Hawke by the fire, relaxed and unafraid. Far away from the threat of slavers.

He found himself melting inside every time they shared a knowing smile, or a private joke. How his heart skipped a beat (and still does it) every time their eyes found each other’s.

The colors of the fire reflecting on that beautiful white hair. Was it as soft as it looked?

After that, he consciously started to pay attention to his own actions.

He noticed then, how he always search for Fenris’ silhouette in the battle field. How his bow was always aiming at Fenris’ back first. How he always knew where the man was, and how many he was handling.

How his grenades and potions always looked to ease the pressure on Fen’s side of the battle.

How the air left his lungs every time the man was hit.

How he always saved one health potion, no matter how injured himself was, in case Fenris needed it after the battle.

When he started noticing all those things, he realized how deep into shit he was. He was totally screwed, no way out, not anymore.

He didn’t know what to do about it.

He knew there was nothing to do about it.

Hawke was too close to magic, and they never agreed when the discussion about mages came. Hawke knew that even if they got along well most of the time, Fenris would never forgive him for sympathize with magic.

And Hawke couldn’t betray his sister, his father.

With Fenris, his honor and his integrity were always to the test.

Everything that he was, was constantly being assess and judged.

Hawke didn’t even know if Fenris liked guys. Didn’t even know if he liked something at all, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he didn’t. He just went through too much.

Hawke knew Fenris didn’t need the weight of his feelings, and never wanted to pressure him or put something more upon those already tired shoulders.

So he tried, hard, most of the time, to bury these thoughts and his feelings deep into his soul.

Letting speak about love just his aiming bow, and his arrows.

Always being a friend, always being loyal, like his mabari.

But sometimes, when he got drunk, like now, he found himself dwelling into his feelings for Fenris all over again. Because alcohol had always weakened his barriers, and at the same time, when they were like this: drinking and laughing, relaxed and happy in Varric’s room, Fenris looked almost as at ease as he has looked a while ago, into the deep roads. And his laughter was priceless, and his voice a gift and damn Hawke was hopelessly in love with _those_ eyes, with _that_ smile.

He left out a heavy sigh, and then noticed Fenris watching him. Hawke blushed, he was caught staring.

“are you ok Hawke?” Maker that voice did things to him, specially when he was this drunk and miserable.

He tried to laugh it all out.

“I was just thinking maybe I am drunker than I thought” he tried to keep the relaxed pose, keep it cool kid.

Fenris quirked an eyebrow.

“I was thinking I should go too, do you want to walk together?” Fenris started to gather his things, his gambling money and emptied his glass in one gulp.

Hawke swallowed. He had walked home with Fenris before, being more drunk even, he could do this. He needed to this without fucking everything up.

“sure” Hawke agreed.

“leaving so soon?” Isabela asked, putting more booze on the table.

“I have drunk enough. I don’t want to have a hungover if this man comes asking for my aid in a foolish task tomorrow morning” Fenris answered pointing a gauntleted finger at Hawke.

Hawke raised his hands in surrender.

“if you’d just agree to take Ander’s cure for the hungover…” Hawke started. Fenris looked at him back raising that eyebrow again. His eyes were saying “are you serious?”

“I’m not giving it to him anyway” Anders said from the other side of the table, refilling his glass.

“you are not funny boys, you two know Anders gets all grumpy when I’m ogling him. What I’m gonna watch now?” Isabela crossed her arms over her chest, somehow making her breasts look bigger.

Hawke shook his head.

“you are impossible”

“let them go Rivaini, if Hawke keeps drinking like this, I am going to be the one carrying his sorry ass to his house, I’m not leaving him my bed” Varric said, mixing his cards for another round of gambling.

The truth was, Hawke wasn’t _that_ drunk. But no one had to know that.

That’s why he faked stumble when he stood up.

“easy boy, you really don’t wanna clean this floor with your face, believe me” Varric teased, very focused on his cards. Hawke was sure he was going to cheat, now that everyone was tipsy enough.

“Hawke, don’t leave me!” Isabela whined again, then looked at Varric “he can crash on my bed, I don’t mind”

Varric laughed.

“of course you don’t”

“I’m sorry Isabela, you always can help yourself to Nina’s room” Hawke said putting his gloves on again, he hated to drink with those things on.

“I was meaning to do that with you, you know. The three of us” Hawke laughed. If he actually liked girls he would have considered. People said a good fuck was the cure for broken hearts. And there he was, feeling sorry for himself, again. He really needed to stop having expectations, or he will end going mad.

“maybe another time” he said blinking at her.

“you always say that, and you never join” Isabela was aiming her index at him now.

“well, maybe he just doesn’t want to get a disease from you” Anders said trying not to laugh at her. Isabela just smirked at him.

“it’s not that, Hawke’s in love” and that was Merrill, finally letting her head out of the thing she was trying to fix the whole night, a bracelet it seemed.

And the silence was made. What an awkward moment.

Hawke was at a loss of words, and thankfully Anders saved him, or try to.

“don’t be ridiculous” Anders said looking at Merrill

“it is true!” she said cheerfully “he does _that_ thing, he stares at nothing and start to sigh, and you can see that wistful gleam on his eyes, it’s really cute”

Everyone was looking incredulous at Merrill, even Hawke.

How could have been _Merrill_ the first to notice it?

“Ok, this is my cue to leave” Hawke said, walking away from the table.

“it’s true then? You are in love!” Anders said looking at him stunned.

“don’t be ridiculous” Hawke quoted him, and then looked at Fenris, who wasn’t saying anything and the look on his face was, as always, neutral. Hawke never had hope anyway.

“let’s go” he said to the elf and couldn’t help the soft smile that came to his own face, betraying him.

He saw Isabela and Varric exchange knowing smiles from the corner of his eye. Damn. Now they knew, maybe they have knew for a while.

He started to walk towards the door and the turn around.

“good bye guys. Anders, could you walk Merrill home? I’m too drunk to do it myself”

“sure”

He crossed the door, and Fenris followed without a word.

The cold breeze against his face was a blessing. He started to walk towards hightown in silence. He didn’t have anything to say, neither have Fenris, it seemed, but he still enjoyed the other’s man company. He liked that about Fenris, he didn’t need to be talking or charming all the time. Walking like this with him wasn’t awkward, was peaceful, to Hawke, at least.

The night air made him realized he was _that_ drunk after all. He stumbled against Fenris’ shoulder, half on purpose, half out of drunkenness.

They both laughed.

“How drunk are you Hawke?” the question came unsure, whispered, but Hawke heard it anyway.

He remained silent for a second though.

“ _Very_ drunk, but not drunk _enough_ ” he said at last, because he knew where this was going.

Fenris only nodded.

They were leaving lowtown when the elf spoke again.

“but you _really do_ that sighing thing” Hawke only laughed and shook his head.

“it’s… _complicated_ , Fenris” Hawke said, because he knew Fenris was trying to ask, on his own way, if it was true. What Merrill said.

“complicated?” Damn Hawke loved that curious face of him.

“he is too precious to rush things, or to fuck things up. And he is totally out of my league too” Hawke gave the elf a sad smile, and then looked forward again, He really didn’t want to know what Fen was thinking at that moment. He didn’t want to read it on his face either.

“that’s all you are getting. You will need many, many bottles of that fancy wine of yours if you want to unlock my sad love story” he added.

It was a lie, Hawke was never going to tell him anything, maybe when he was dying, maybe not even then.

Fenris chuckled, and then turned serious.

“I … see” he said at last and bumped his shoulder against Hawke’s playfully.

They were close to Fenris’ house. It didn’t matter how wasted Hawke was, he always left Fenris at the door of his house, and only when he saw the elf cross the doorway he walked to his own. They argued about that a couple of times, when he was mourning Bethany and he used to get pretty wasted, frequently; but Hawke was stubborn and Fenris gave up. They both knew Varric had an eye on them anyway.

They were facing each other at the doorway. The way home was always too short when he was with Fenris.

Hawke was drunk, and vulnerable, and feeling miserable, so he couldn’t help but get stuck on Fenris’ eyes. Fenris, apparently was caught on Hawke’s eyes too.

Hawke didn’t know how they ended being this close, but he wasn’t going to complaint about it. He could smell Fenris, and it was overwhelming. This close, he could see those beautiful eyes in detail. He wasn’t that gone though, he noticed Fenris was looking at his lips and Hawke swallowed.

Should he…?

He totally shouldn’t.

For many reasons.

They were both drunk. Fenris will most likely regret this tomorrow. Hawke knew the moment his lips would touch Fenris’ he would probably lose control. He couldn’t allow that, not with Fenris, his beautiful Fenris.

He’d rather died without never tasting those lips than losing him forever. Or have to face his hate, or regret. Fenris didn’t need the weight of his feelings. Freedom was still a foreign concept for him, in many aspects.

He was sober enough to not just screw everything right away.

But he was drunk enough to not notice when his hand moved by itself to Fenris’ cheek.

Without losing eye contact, Fenris leaned into that touch. And Hawke melted. His heart was out of control and he wasn’t sure anymore what the right thing was. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him. But he was not prepared to face Fenris regretting this after, that would kill him.

Instead he put his forehead against Fenris’ and said nothing, he just let out a big sigh and close his eyes. He enjoyed the closeness and tried to memorize the feeling of skin against skin, the form and touch of that cheek, the warm and smell of the other body, maybe this all what he is going to get ever.

“Hakwe…!”

Hawke didn’t know how to interpret that breathless whisper.

He wasn’t planning on confessing his feelings, ever.

But there he was.

“if I do it now, you are totally going to regret it tomorrow” he said softly, he opened his eyes again, and looked at those green pools, Hawke knew very well he was looking like a kicked puppy, and as embarrassing as that was, he didn’t care “and I can’t deal with that, I can’t stand it, I…” He sighed again and lean in once more to touch that forehead with his. Fenris leaned even more into that hand on his cheek.

He was making very difficult to Hawke not to kiss him.

Hawke was very surprised his heart didn’t gave up yet, with it crazy beating.

“good night, sleep well” he said, pulling back. A step back, two. He let his hand fall awkwardly by his side. Two steps more.

Fenris was standing there yet, face unreadable, and Hawke turn around and walked home.

He missed the quiet “like I could sleep at all after that” whispered to the night air.

Hawke was totally screwed, he would have to fake he can’t remember what just happened tomorrow or he wouldn’t be able to look at the elf in the eye nevermore.

Hawke sighed again.

 

“ _complicated_ ” was the understatement of the century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you made it til here, thank you so much, means a lot  
> maybe i will write something else for this, maybe not
> 
> but i'd greatly appreciate any comments or kudos, if you feel like it!
> 
> see you soon!


	2. If you ask Fenris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris deals with his feelings about what happened that night after the hunged man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, i've been sick for several days now, so this maybe is just a fervish delirium (?)  
> i wanted to do a series with these little drafts about my boys, but i realised maybe it wouldn't be understandable at all without the first part, so i'm posting it as a second chapter instead.  
> is shorter than the previous one, because Fenris is emotionally constipated and has a lot of things he needs to figure out, so he is always going slow about this kind of things and tends to ignore them when they get too overwhelming (?) (that's my headcanon though, you don't have to agree, but you can, if you want)
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> PS: sorry, i don't have a beta and english is not my native languague. Mistakes are my own

If you ask Fenris… well, it depends on what kind of mood he is when you ask.

 

If he is in his usual bitter emotional constipation he will most likely deny everything and ignore you until the day you forget why he stopped talking to you in the first place. 

 

If he is feeling a little kind and hopeful he will say to you he values friendship, and that’s what this is, that’s the answer at all your _“whys”._

 

And that’s all that you are getting, it seems like there are no other options, nor other possible answers.

 

But sometimes, when he is alone at home, working hard on drinking himself into stupor, he will be honest with you (if you have the guts to stand him in the middle of his storm of feelings and not to die in the attempt)

When he is with no one but himself and his ghosts, himself against his past and pain, himself trying hard to keep going and live instead of just only survive he will allow a little honesty, a little rest from pretending.

 

Then, maybe, he will tell you that he doesn’t know when exactly it started, but that it was slow as the change of seasons, it was a process rather than an epiphany, he saw everything passing by between his fingers like water; He knows it wasn’t a particular moment of lucidity or realization, but instead a careful study of several things combined.

 

Because Fenris was always observant.

 

Well, it was a study until things got out of his hands, but he still can enlist where things started to get confusing.

 

It was how someone with so questionable manners could be so kind and giving, so gentle.

 

In the way he always has a hand to help but never asks for anything in return.

 

Fenris knows is because of his endless patience, is in the way he always looks exasperated, but never pushes. In the passionate way he always speaks about the things he cares about.

 

In his careful way of treating Fenris, never asking and always accepting.

 

Fenris knows is in the way he stands for what he believes, in the way he defends his ideals, in the way he despises injustice, the way he protects his friends and family.

 

Fenris knows is the fact that even when he has lost so much he still gives whatever he can, he still laughs and smiles with joy and never loses his kindness.

 

He is not broody and bitter at what life had reaped out of him, not like Fenris, and yet, he still mourns.

 

Fenris knows is in his good looks too, the dimples of his cheeks and his killer smile, the way his hair moves following the rhythm of the wind; the way his skin reflects the sun.

 

Fenris knows is in those eyes too.

 

But also, is in his moments of pain and weakness, in the way his smile falters and his eyes darken when he thinks about his mother, the stiffness of his shoulders when he talks about his brother.

 

The stunning, yet painful smile he wears when he tells stories about his sister, you can tell from that smile alone how much he misses her, and how much he is hurting, how alone he feels…

 

Fenris knows these things very well, almost by heart, because he is always trying to fight them out of his head, and he is always failing; _they  are already on his heart._

 

The truth is, he can barely keep his eyes off Hawke.

 

And now, on his mansion, with his face between his hands and an empty bottle in front of him after a visit of Hawke  he cannot deny it.

 

The flutter of his heart is too loud, the churning of his gut too heavy, the ghost of that touch on his cheek too hot.

 

The word _“complicated”_ too meaningful.

 

The desire to be kissed too frightful.

 

The urge to kiss almost unbearable.

 

Fenris often remembers the way Hawke had held his face, not so many nights ago, with such tenderness and affection that sometimes that memory alone is enough to keep him awake and away from the ghosts of his past for the whole night, always daydreaming about soft lips and hot breath, dimpled cheeks, gentle eyes and killer smiles.

 

Fenris knows, in moments like this one, that he can’t lie to himself anymore.

 

He can’t take his eyes off Hawke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much if you read it til here, it means a lot to me.
> 
> i will be even grateful if you leave kudos or a comment if you feel like it!
> 
> see you soon <3


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